FAGE 09: All My Yesterdays
by razztaztic
Summary: Written for FAGE 09, for Laurie Whitlock. Steve Rogers/Peggy Carter. Steve contemplates the past, and a future he can never have. One-shot. Complete.


**FAGE 9: The Last Ride**

 **Title: All My Yesterdays**

 **Written for: Laurie Whitlock**

 **Written By: Razztaztic**

 **Rating: T**

 **Summary/Prompt used: Steve Rogers/Peggy Carter**

 **If you would like to see all the stories that are a part of this exchange visit the Facebook group: Fanficaholics Anon: Where Obsession Never Sleeps, or add the C2 to get all the stories direct to your inbox.**

 **community/FAGE-9-The-Last-Ride/93625/**

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 ** _June 2, 1963_**

Night fell heavy in the forest, an inky blackness made even darker by a thick canopy of trees that blocked the stars high overhead. A fire might have helped but none of the soldiers in the small clearing even considered building one; mostly veterans, they knew that flames in the darkness destroyed a man's night vision and attracted as much danger as they repelled. Although they were still miles from their objective on the border and presumably safe from attack, only the foolish - and the dead - took unnecessary chances.

They were a small group, less than a dozen in all. Four were hidden somewhere on the perimeter of the camp, watching and guarding. The rest were stretched out on the hard ground wrapped in scratchy woolen blankets, or propped against a handy tree with their eyes closed. The occasional snore rumbled through the air as men snatched at the opportunity for a few hours' rest.

Not everyone, however, slept.

"Cap?" A grunt told the young soldier that his quiet whisper had been heard. "Tell us a story."

"Tell you a story? What are you, twelve?" Sitting on the ground with his back against the broad trunk of an ancient tree, Sam Wilson opened one eye and used it to cast a scornful gaze toward the curious youth. "Be quiet and get some sleep while you can."

The soldier shifted beneath his blanket, a restless movement that reeked of embarrassed chagrin. "Yes, sir. Sorry, it's just so quiet I thought . . ."

"We didn't bring you out here to think, Cobb," Sam said bluntly. "If you don't need the shut-eye, you can replace Gould and pull a shift of guard duty."

"Sam."

Steve Rogers' deep baritone cut off any reply Cobb might have made. Like Sam, he sat on the leaf-strewn ground, backed up against the trunk of a tree that was almost directly across from his friend and fellow soldier. Their positions, taken without comment or conscious agreement, gave the two men a 100 degree view of the camp. Sam, both eyes open now, looked at Steve then waved his hand as if to say _go ahead, then._

Steve slanted a glance toward the youth without turning his head. "You want a story, kid? Okay. I mean, I'm a little rusty but okay. Once upon a time . . ."

Snickers rolled through the men. Cobb flushed, grateful that the tell-tale color was hidden beneath the darkness and the greasepaint on his face.

"I didn't mean - -" He cleared his throat with a cough and deepened his voice in an attempt to get his dignity back. "I just wanted to hear some of your stories, Cap. You know, first hand, from back in the day. A guy in Bravo Company said you were there when it all started. He said you worked with Peggy Carter."

An unnatural stillness blanketed the camp like a layer of ice. Even the snoring faded to silence. Only Sam, his gaze already on Steve, saw him flinch.

"That was a long time ago," was all he said.

"Yeah." Oblivious to the tension, Cobb rolled over on his back, folded his arms beneath his head and stared into the shadows of the treetops overhead. "Some of that stuff, the things my buddy told me, I figured he was making it up."

When Steve looked across the clearing, Sam caught his eye and gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. After a beat of silence, Steve shrugged and let his head fall back against the tree. His eyes closed again.

"The stories are all true."

All around the camp, glances flicked in his direction and then quickly away again, as if the men were afraid to be caught staring. Cobb, raised himself up on one elbow.

"For real? The one about Paris, in 1943? Breaking those five French resistance fighters out of jail?"

"Six resistance fighters. Should have been seven but we got there too late."

 _Peggy had been magnificent,_ Steve remembered. _Magnificent and fearless, from the first minute they'd swam ashore at Le Havre. At the time, the port city had still been in German hands but she had forged ahead, adjusting on the spot when their carefully made plans went awry. Her French was flawless while his was nonexistent, so they'd wrapped his head in dirty gauze and bound one leg with an old sheet, instantly transforming him into yet another wounded soldier being cared for by his grief-stricken wife. The charade had worked but maintaining it slowed their progress to Paris. Freeing the six prisoners had earned them praise but it was the shallow grave of the seventh that haunted them both._

By now, everyone had given up the thought of sleep, drawn in by the prospect of hearing first-hand some of the stories they thought were only legends. A voice rose hesitantly from the other side of the camp.

"Did you guys really save the Queen from being kidnapped by Hydra?"

Steve smiled. "She wasn't the Queen at the time. We were tipped off that Hydra agents were in Kenya, waiting for the princess and her husband, Philip. Peg got us added to her detail so when the agents made their move, we were there first. It was a couple of days after that when Elizabeth found out that her father was dead."

The new Queen and her retinue had cut their planned tour short and hastily returned to England. He and Peggy, though, stayed behind, stealing a week for themselves. Eyes closed, he saw it all again . . . the small hotel room they'd rarely left, filled with golden sunlight. The sultry nights that slicked bare, passion-warmed skin with sticky sweat. Time that stood still, if only for the moment.

"I wish she was here." Steve jerked reflexively; Cobb's remark seemed to come from his own subconscious yearning. "Peggy Carter, I mean."

A derisive laugh floated in the air along with a short stick that landed with a thump against Cobb's legs. More jeering followed when a caustic voice asked, "What's the matter, kid? Looking for a fairy godmother? You need somebody to hold your hand when the fighting starts?"

The squad was headed for the border of East Germany, preparing the way for President Kennedy's visit to Berlin. The news of the popular young president's trip had resulted in the usual chatter of threats and dire warnings, some of which had to be taken seriously. Their unit's job was to go in quietly and take out the hostile nests they knew about, all while searching for the ones they didn't know about . . . yet. As the youngest member of the group, Cobb had taken the brunt of the men's sometimes rough sense of humor. Now, he quickly backed away from any hint of softness.

"The way I hear it, she's got more brains than all you bozos, and she's a better shot, too. I'm just trying to stay alive."

"Well, you're stuck with us. Carter retired from the agency so she sure ain't gonna show up to watch over your ass."

"I heard she got married." Cobb pulled his thin wool blanket over his shoulders and settled down again. "Can't remember his name, though . . . lucky bastard."

Sam was watching Steve again when a muscle flexed in his jaw. His voice was even, though, when he responded.

"Daniel Sousa. His name is Daniel Sousa. He's a good man."

" _He's a good man? That's it?"_ The memory was as bright as the tears glittering in Peggy's dark eyes. _"That's all you have to say?"_

 _Steve forced himself to meet her gaze head on. "You deserve a good man."_

 _She swallowed hard but refused to let the tears fall. "You're a fool."_

 _The crisp English words landed like barbs on his skin and stayed there to burn deep inside. His already straight posture stiffened further as he fought the pain of losing her all over again. Three years ago he'd walked away, for both their sakes. Facing her now, he was forced to call on that same sense of resolve one more time._

" _I can't give you what you want - -"_

" _You're wrong! I told you it didn't matter - -"_

" _It matters to me!" It was a relief to be angry, to have a target. "You said it yourself, Peg," he reminded her harshly. "When you looked in the mirror that morning. Do you want me to repeat it?"_

" _I was joking," she insisted, as her eyes filled again. "I'd just found a grey hair, hadn't I? It was a joke!"_

" _I can't grow old with you." There it was, the truth, bitter and stinging. "Eventually, you would resent me."_

 _Peggy laughed, but the sound was brittle. "Don't be daft. In 50 years, I'll be the belle of the seniors home with you as my hot young boyfriend."_

" _You deserve a man who'll give you his whole life," Steve whispered. "Who will experience every stage of life with you. Who can give you a family."_

 _This time, she couldn't stop the tears from falling. "You can't be sure . . ."_

 _He took the chance to touch her again, however briefly, and reached for her hands. "That serum changed my genetic make-up, my . . . what did Dr. Wilson call it, my DNA. We don't know what those changes mean, what kind of mutation might show up in a . . . a . . . baby." He forced the word out, let it fade and die between them like his dreams of ever having a normal life. "I can't take that chance. I won't. Not with you. Not with a . . . child."_

 _She wrenched away with a sob and turned her back on him. The empty space that divided them, barely two feet wide, felt like an endless chasm._

" _Sousa loves you." The words revealed the close watch he'd kept on her since they parted._

 _Peggy nodded. One hand rose to brush at her cheeks. "He does."_

" _And you love him."_

 _She turned then, heartbreakingly beautiful in her sorrow. "It's not the same."_

" _But it's enough," Steve replied. Unknowingly, his own expression mirrored hers. "Go. Get married. Have babies. Be happy. I'll keep the world safe for you."_

 _He tensed when she moved closer. If she moved into his arms, even for one last embrace, he wasn't sure he could let her go again._

 _But she didn't. Her fingers touched his face . . . and then she was gone._

Cobb was unaware of his hero's hidden torment. He twisted to look back over his shoulder. "Hey Cap, did you two really - -"

"COBB." Sam cut him off with a ruthless edge to his voice that silenced the whole camp. "One more word out of you and you'll be pulling double guard duty for the rest of this mission. Are we clear?"

Taking him literally, Cobb nodded and tried to disappear beneath the blanket. Silence spread through the clearing, broken only by the sounds of night birds hunting, and the death squeals of their unlucky prey.

Steve Rogers shifted against the tree and tried to rest, too, while he could. He had a world to keep safe.


End file.
